Gemotions

The small, cluttered office suddenly felt too small. Carol gasped for air. Every paper she touched, every essay she read, was a revelation, and a burden. Her mother’s careful hand, her meticulous notes, the red ink corrections – all a testament to a life she never fully understood.

She sank into the chair, clutching the edge of the desk. The desk, her mother’s desk. It was all so… overwhelming.

A wave of heat crashed over her. She picked up a drawing, a self-portrait, the childish face so innocent. She hadn't seen this drawing in decades. The face seemed to be mocking her. The weight of her mother's silent expectations, of her hidden life, felt crushing.

She wanted to tear it all to shreds.